The Making of Tom Riddle, The Dark Lord
by F.L.M. Pacifico
Summary: How did it all start? Find out the story behind Tom Riddle, his rise to power and his death...DH compliant
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: **

**THE BIRTH OF THE RIDDLE**

New Year's Eve, 1926

It was a dark, cold, rainy night in London. The trees were violently dancing to the wailing song of the strong wind. Their gnarled branches slowly breaking off from their corrupted bodies. Their leaves were falling concealing the slippery, muddy ground. The sky was angry and was throwing thunder and lightning every now and then. It was as if the world agreed with the emotions she was feeling. Merope Gaunt Riddle, a damaged, defeated young woman tried to find some form of shelter amidst the storm. She stumbled and slid on the muddy ground, immediately picking herself up each time. She held on to her womb every time she would fall afraid that something terrible would happen to the child she was carrying. It was getting colder and colder for her. Alas, she finally sees a house. She knocked on the antique oak double doors. An elderly woman, who looked very stiff, answered the door with a rigid looking expression on her wrinkled face.

"What can I do for you child?" she said coldly with her raspy, deep voice, as if she already knew what Merope's answer would be.

"I-I th-think I am about to give birth", answered Merope stuttering while trying to catch her breath.

"Oh, you think you are? Right then, come inside." said the old woman blankly.

Merope entered the house. It was old, but immaculately clean. The wooden floor was worn out but spotless. The walls were painted a clean white, spotless as well. There were ornamental paintings that were placed neatly upon the walls. Some furniture stood still in the corner of the hall, a floor lamp and an odd looking wooden table upon which a statue of a beautiful young girl lovingly embracing her son was nestled safely inside a glass casement. All of these, of course, were dustless. Not a speck of dust in the room, the whole place was squeaky clean. The only thing or person out of place was Merope. She stood with clothes drenched from the rain and muddy shoes, in the middle of the dimly lit hallway examining the house and waiting for a signal from the old woman as to where she should proceed. The old woman with her wrinkled hand, signaled Merope to follow her. She turned her back to Merope and entered another room at the end of the hall. Merope looked around the room. It was a small room, dimly lit like the rest of the house, with space for just one single sized bed, a chair and side-table. On top of the side-table rested a basin, some medicine bottles and disinfectants. There was a stack of towels neatly folded on the bed. Merope did not care about how she was going to give birth or where. In fact, she thought to herself that this orphanage was quite at par with the living condition she was actually used to. At that moment, the only thing important to her was the survival of her child.

"You're all I've got...Of him" she whispered to the child in her womb.

Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain. The old woman who was standing across the room saw liquid running down her legs.

"You're about to give birth child! Can you manage to get to the bed?" exclaimed the old woman.

Merope merely nodded and calmly proceeded to the bed. She laid down on the bed nervously. She clutched the pillow which was behind her head. The old woman placed several towels beneath her legs and asked her to bite on a dampened towel that she placed in Merope's mouth.

"Eleanor! Fetch me some hot water!" Yelled the old woman.

Merope felt her entire body aching. She was shivering, cold sweat breaking through her skin. Living had always been a chore for her and it was even more so, at that moment. She just wanted to rid her body of the child she was carrying. She didn't care if she were to survive after giving birth. She just wanted the child to live. She, on the contrary, even contemplated death as a relief. As she was pondering on these thoughts, a woman appeared in the room carrying a kettle of hot water.

"Put the water in the basin", ordered the old woman. Merope was putting every inch of her strength into her breathing.

"Breathe child!" demanded the old woman.

"I am trying" Merope said softly.

"Push!" yelled the old woman.

"Push! Grab onto the pillow if you must. Just push! The child is almost out! Push as hard as you can!" she instructed.

Merope pushed as hard as she could. With every ounce of her strength she was able to deliver the child.

"It's a boy!" declared the woman named Eleanor.

The baby boy cried out loud. The old woman turned to Merope after fixing the baby to a right state, removing his umbilical cord and wrapping him in clean towels.

"What is his name?" she asked Merope.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle" Merope answered in a whisper.

"What is your name child?" the old woman enquired.

"Merope. Merope Gaunt." She answered.

"I hope he grows up to look just like his father". She added trying to catch her breath.

The old woman smiled at her.

Merope felt the last inch of her strength running away from her as she stared at her son who was now quietly laying in her arms. She closed her eyes and whispered to him "Tom, you are wanted. I wanted you. But, I have to leave you. I must die, so you can fulfill the prophecy." The old woman stared at her funnily. It was as if Merope spoke another strange language, foreign to those around her. With her last hiss, Merope Gaunt left this world. She gave birth to the child who will one day become the one of the most powerful wizards to ever live. Of course, she knew that.


	2. Chapter 2

C**HAPTER 2:**

**THE PROPHECY AND MEDEA BLACK**

Earlier that day, she had gone to the house of her long lost mother, Medea Black. Medea is the cousin of Phineas Nigellus (Hogwart's Headmaster). She was, however removed from the family tree. You see, Medea was promised to Marvolo Gaunt, one of Salazar Slytherin's great great great great grandsons. She did marry him, and had given birth to two children, Morfin and Merope. Well, that was all that was asked of her. She treated her marriage just like any other contract. Nothing was said about raising her children or having to live the rest of her life with that awful Marvolo. So immediately after giving birth to her second child, Merope, she left the Gaunt family. She had no remorse when she packed her things and left that awful house. Her family did not blast her off the family tree for running away from the Gaunts. They knew exactly how despicable they were. Medea married Marvolo because of an ancient magical contract that had been made for them even way before they were both born. If she had breached that contract, she and her parents would die. Medea accepted that she really did have to marry Marvolo. The Blacks also permitted Medea to run away from the family once everything said in the contract was put into action. They understood Medea for leaving the miserable wizard Gaunt. They blasted her off the Tree because she ran away with... You guessed it right, a Muggle. She was the first of the Blacks to do that. And she did it with style. Medea was known for a lot of things. She was powerful, intelligent and beautiful. She was also known for her eccentricity and her love for Muggle culture. She has read so many muggle books. She loves reading encyclopedias, novels and she had a particular obsession with Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet". She decided to do a "Juliet". She drank a powerful potion, The Draught of Death, to put her into a deep sleep. The Blacks thought she killed herself. And, as they were doing some funeral ceremonies, she disapparated. She was later seen on Muggle news, hand in hand with a Muggle celebrity. He knew about her being a witch. He didn't care of course, she was too charming. She lived peacefully, (though she stirred Muggle tabloids with her scandalous affairs) in the Muggle world until Merope came looking for her.

The Draught of Death, derived from The Draught of the Living Death, is a potion for feigning death. The effect of the potion is "looking quite dead" to everyone else around the drinker. The potion was unknown to the magic world, as it was concocted by Medea Black herself.

There was a knock on the door. Alfred, the white-haired butler of Medea, rushed toward the large oak doors of her London manor. He briskly swung the door open and greeted their visitor with a courteous smile.

"Good evening, how may I help you?" he asked the visitor, trying to conceal the look of disgust that was threatening to spread over his face.

The girl he was speaking to had very appalling features. Her eyes stared in opposite directions. Her lips were extremely thin, and her face was gaunt. Her hair was limp and lifeless. Alfred wondered what this creature wanted from him or his mistress. As if Merope knew what he was thinking, she said stuttering

"I-I- w-w-would l-like to s-sp-speak to Medea Black". Alfred raised a solitary eyebrow and said to Merope,

"I deeply regret that Madame Medea cannot--" He was cut of by a voice, a woman's voice

"Alfred, let her in. I was expecting her", the voice said with a authoritative tone.

Alfred was surprised but he immediately ushered the odd looking girl inside the manor. The manor was unlike anything Merope has ever seen before. Describing it with mere words would do injustice to grandeur of the place. Merope's mouth was ajar when she entered the manor. Alfred gave her a bow and directed his hand to where she could find Medea. Merope glanced at the floor and noticed her reflection. She could not help but think about how out of place she was. She also kept thinking about what her mother really looked like. She has always been curious about her. She remembered that her father, Marvolo, only mentioned her once explaining that her mother was "a selfish, self-centered bitch" and warned her not to try to look for "that dirty blood-traitor". He had never mentioned how her mother looked like and surprisingly enough, not one picture of her existed, not even a picture from her insignificant wedding to Marvolo. Merope was swimming inside her thoughts, she was confused, lost and excited. She had a fearful expression on her face as she approached the room where her mother was waiting for her. After their long walk from the entrance hall, Alfred gestured her to enter the room at the end of a brightly lit hall. The room had a high ceiling, it had walls covered in an elegant gold and silver wallpaper and a massive crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the room. The furniture, made of dark oak matched the grand interiors of the room. There were two large, fluffy armchairs, velvet poufs, and several sturdy study tables in the different corners of the room and a vast collection of books covered the bookshelves all around the room. The room looked like a grand library, the kind that one will find in universities, except for the bit about cozy armchairs and free-flowing tea, scones, crumpets, tarts and other various petit-fours.

(This brightly lit hall is different from the entrance hall. The entrance hall was Grand, it was TOO GRAND for anybody's liking. It was Medea's odd humour really. She thought that kind of hall would intimidate people and scare them away. It occasionally scared people away... And quite literally, chased people away.)

Merope entered the room. She stood near the door not knowing exactly what she was supposed to do or where she was supposed to go. She did not dare move. She just stood there, looking extremely nervous, shaking all over. She looked as if the Armageddon was about to set upon her at any random second. It was like being in the presence of her father Marvolo.

"Merope? That is your name. Am I mistaken?" said Medea inquiringly.

"Yes ma'am" Merope answered with a shudder.

"Come closer to me child. And, please do not be afraid of me. I do not bite." Medea said ever so calmly. Merope hesitantly walked towards Medea. Medea gestured her to sit on the free armchair across her. Merope sat on the chair. It was a very comfortable chair, not too soft, and not too hard, it was perfect. She looked at her mother for the second time in her life.

Her mother was the epitome of beauty. She had long black hair, piercing blue-eyes, full lips, her eye-brows perfectly symmetrical. Everything about her was perfect. Medea looked at her daughter. She did not look disappointed or surprised, it was as if she already knew what her daughter looked like. She smiled warmly at Merope. Merope tried to return that warm smile her mother had given her but only managed a strange looking gape.

"You must be hungry." Medea said.

"Alfred, please bring us tea and some biscuits."

Alfred nodded and exited the room. Medea turned to Merope.

"You must have a lot of questions. I left you a day after you were born. I left without a note, without any explanation.Well, now I will explain everything to you. I will answer all your questions."

Merope was surprised. Her mother read her mind or might have appeared to have read her mind, she wasn't quite sure.

"Erm--" Merope uttered.

"I left because I had to. I would never have stayed out of love. I never loved your father. I only had a contract to fulfill. After doing everything stated in the contract, I was given permission to leave. Your father hated me for doing that. He hated the thought of having to rear his children alone. I hated your father. I loathe his existence. That Marvolo is the most horrible man I have ever met. He forced me to do whatever it is that he fancied. I was a slave, I was treated even worse than a house elf. I was often physically beaten and constantly emotionally injured. I hate Marvolo because he made me into something I did not want to be. I almost became a murderer. I had the power to kill him but my conscience bothered me too much and in the end, I refused to do that. I chose to runaway after you were born. I am sorry, I couldn't have been of more help to you. I could not be your mother." Medea said with sincere remorse for not being to help her daughter, for not being able to nurture her child.

Merope wanted to ask help from her mother. She wanted to know if she can help raise the child she was now carrying.

"Ma'am, I was wondering if--" she was cut off by Medea.

"Please don't call me ma'am. Call me... Medea." She said kindly.

"Alfred, can you please fetch me the old wooden box in the dresser of my room. It has MB etched in it. Thank you." She said to her butler who was now placing tea for both her and Merope. Medea turned to speak to Merope again.

"And, the question you're about to ask me is about the child you are having. It's a question about your son. I would love to help you, but my child, I doubt that I would live long enough to raise him. I am afraid that old age is getting the better of me. In less than a year's time, I will be gone from this world. I would not be able to care for him." said Medea sadly.

"How did you know I was going to ask you to--" Again, Merope's statement was cut short.

"Take care of your son? My grandson? Merope, my dear, I know a lot of things. In fact, I think I know too much of this world. It is my talent and my downfall at the same time. I am a Seer. I am the only Seer who can remember everything that I have Seen. Unlike other Seers, who get into some form of trance, I remain conscious. My prophecies remain in my memory. I see the future. I know the future. I can give people the power to change their futures. It is my downfall because even if I know the future, I do not have the courage to change it. I am the worst person in the world. My guilt weighs over me like the shadow of death. It follows me everywhere I go. I should be blamed for all the nasty things in the world. Look at this war that we're living and dying in. I've known it for about a century. And yet, I did not do anything to stop it. I let people die left, and right."

She took a deep breath, a sip from her tea, and continued, cautiously speaking.

"Merope, I know what will happen to you. I know the future of your son."

Medea placed her hand on her daughters hand.

"It is most unfortunate that you will not live long enough to know him. But do not fret. Death is not as bad as you think it is. It is not even painful. It comes too quick to be painful."

Her words gave Merope a jolt, Merope's hand were now shaking but Medea kept her hand steadily holding Merope's.

"Your son, will be a very, very powerful wizard. He has a bright future. So, you needn't worry about him. I will see to it that he gets enough galleons to survive in this world. He will get his inheritance from me in due time. Even if I am not around, I will ask someone to watch over him.Your son's power, can be salvation for the wizarding world or it can also be the cause of death and darkness which will cloud the world for decades. Power is a very dangerous thing. I will ask someone to guide him. I do not wish for my grandson to use his powers to harm people."

Medea took another a sip from her tea.

"Where can I have my son...I mean, where can I give birth? I think it will be soon," Merope asked, mustering all the courage she had left after she found out about the prophecy.

"Well...In an orphanage, I suppose. There's one in the next town. I can have Alfred bring you there..." Medea suggested. "You're probably wondering why you can't give birth here, in my home. I would really have loved to have you give birth to my grandson here but I just can't begin to even fathom the amount of scandal and endless gossips it will give the Muggle tabloids to write about. You don't want him to face things like that immediately after he is born. He'll cause a lot of it in the future, but for now, I think it is wiser for him to enter the world quietly" She tried to justify her actions and looked at Merope sympathetically.

" Yes, I understand and I apologize for giving you trouble. I think I can manage to find the orphanage. So, you needn't worry about me. Really." Merope said rising from the armchair she was sitting on. She gave Medea a low bow and bid her goodbye for the last time.

"My child,I really wish I could help you more...but I really am sorry that I can't. This is goodbye, for now." said Medea sadly. She lifted the box that Alfred had given to her.

"Merope, take this box with you. Leave it with your son. It will help him, one day. I just hope he will know how to use it." Medea gave Merope the old wooden box that was now, carefully wrapped in a velvet dark green pouch. Merope accepted it. She did not know what it was for, but she will leave it to her son. It was from her mother. That was enough for her and she did not ever question her intentions.

"Goodbye--erm--Mother. My son, your grandson's name will be Tom Marvolo Riddle. I just thought you'd like to know." whispered Merope. She smiled at her mother. She was contented with all the answers her mother gave to her questions.

Medea smiled at her. She already knew the name of her grandson even before he was conceived. She really did not enjoy her Gift or what she called a Curse-for-knowing- exactly-everything-that-will-happen-and-where-and-when-it-will-happen.

Merope, with half-a-spark-of-hope, departed from the manor of Medea Black and disappeared into the cold, stormy, windy, night.


End file.
